


Are we never speaking about it again?

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, a bit of canon style Strike language!, and yeah.....each other's names!, both hearing the other one, mmom, shouting when they come, some hotels have very thin walls, splashing about in a bath, splashing about in a shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: This is an unashamed MMOM offering which I wrote a while ago - but sort of links into my current Spa Day fic - I considered rewriting it to make it completely fit....but I am not planning to end Spa Day quite like this....so....if you like, feel free to imagine it is set in the spa hotel, or just read and enjoy to smutty fest.It's just smut.....why try and pretend there's a plot?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51
Collections: Merry Month of Masturbation 2020





	Are we never speaking about it again?

Strike flopped himself onto the double bed, groaning both in relief from the ache to his leg and out of managing, so he thought, to cover his ridiculously inappropriate and increasingly desperate feelings for Robin.

They’d been out together all day; a corporate trade event where they had been passing themselves off as business partners.   
In itself it had been fine – work was work and he usually managed to demarcate his feelings professionally – but the thing had gone on longer than expected and they’d agreed to get a budget hotel for the night and return to London the following day.  
Again, they’d done this loads of times before.   
They’d stayed in countless Premier Inns and Travel Lodges up and down the country in the name of tailing a suspect of getting decisive proof to close a case.

The business was doing bloody well.

It was just that his and Robin’s personal lives were a bit crap.  
He had been under the impression that she was dating a guy called Mark that she met via a friend of friend of Nick. But as they’d chatted over coffee and lunch at the event earlier he’d discovered that she’d only seen him a few times and had ended it, giving him the rather vague reason of “Ohhh….just…..he wasn’t right,” as an explanation.

So now they were a flimsy wall apart.  
He knew she’d be showering, undressing, sleeping, dreaming just inches away from him.  
And he knew that he’d have a hard time – no pun intended, but very much appropriate – keeping control of himself inside his corporately crisp and standardised double room.

Robin flopped down face-first across the double bed, flinging the purple cover thing away from the bottom – she’d read horror stories of the germs on those things!  
Oh God!  
She’d struggled all day to rein in her feelings for her business partner.   
Posing as a work partnership had been simple enough….it was what they were after all……but he looked gorgeous in his shirt and tie; and even more gorgeous as he’d tugged it free and unfastened the buttons at his neck later in the day.

He’d asked her about Mark, and she’d finally told him that it had come to nothing. She’d seen him three times, they’d had a few kisses, but each time she’d been picturing the dark, swarthy features of Cormoran rather than the slender, clean shaven fairness of Mark.  
She’d known it was unfair to string him along and she’d ended it several weeks ago.

Her feelings for her work and business partner were becoming a real pain in the arse!

She stifled a groan into one of the pillows she’d dragged from the head of the bed and pummelled her legs against the mattress.  
She was so close to him.  
Shit, she could hear him clearing his throat!

Oh good God, she’d be able to hear him in the shower…..was that his bed creaking? 

She rolled over and noticed a similar sound from her own bed….bugger…..that would certainly impact upon what she’d been planning on indulging in later in order to get some sleep.  
She’d frequently had to resort to a pre-sleep wank for about the past two months.  
Fuck! Who was she kidding….the past 4 at least!

Each time she lay on her bed she pictured Cormoran’s huge physique looming above her, his hot breath close to her neck, his large, rough hands in the place of her own slender fingers.  
The mental image of him growling her to “Cum for me, Ellacott” always sent her over the edge, and lying there now, sprawled across her double bed with the man himself just the other side of a thin partition wall was having a familiar and predictable effect in her knickers.

He had located and filled the mini kettle and was in the process of making himself a mug of what he knew would be woefully piss weak tea when his phone rang.  
It was Robin.  
He swiped the handset and rumbled a slightly gruff, “’ello” into it.

R : Just wondering when you fancy going getting some food. There’s a generic pub food place across the car park.  
Strike was dimly aware that he could hear every word Robin was saying without need of the phone clamped to his ear.

C : In about an hour or so? That work for you?  
He glanced around as he poured his now boiled kettle and tutted as the tea bag emitted a pathetic pale brown streak around the bag.  
Robin heard the sound of metal on crockery – through the wall as well as the phone – and grinned, knowing that he would be attempting to brew his preferred creosote coloured tea from the budget, single cup bags provided.

R: Is the tea shite?

C: Course it fuckin’ is….and there’s only 2 bags so I can’t double up either!  
She heard a further tut and bit her lip, knowing that he’d be sticking out his lower lip and making his Grumpy Cat eyes as he stared at his crappy tea.

R: I’ve got a couple of strong ones in my handbag, you can have those. Right, see you in about an hour, I’m going to pour all of the little bottles into the bath and wallow for a bit!  
Strike smiled; she had decent tea bags in her handbag….of course she did!   
She was Robin.   
She made his life better and easier and more pleasant in every single way.

And she was about to get undressed and dip herself into a bubble filled, hot bath just feet away from him.  
He stabbed at the tea bag and managed to cover the growl in his throat as a cough.

C : Fine, I’m gonna drink….this….. and I’ll send the videos we got through to the main office for tomorrow. Have fun.

He hung up and regarded the phone in his palm, shaking his head.  
Have fun?!!!? 

Where the fuck did that come from?

She was having a bath!  
What the hell would she think of that comment? 

What fun was he imagining her doing in the bath that he was referring to without giving away that he was indeed imagining all manner of delicious fun he could have with her in that very same bath.

Oh fuuuuuck!!!!!

He grunted loudly and turned to face plant on the crumpled bed cover, his erection pressing against his flies.  
“How the fuck can you still be hard after that car crash comment?” he muttered, shaking his head and wishing desperately that he could smoke in his room.

In the adjoining room Robin was staring at her own phone, mentally reliving Cormoran’s parting comment.  
Have fun?  
In the bath?

And had he been coughing, or had he seriously snarled like a bull when she’d mentioned a bubble bath?

Now she had a serious issue going on between her legs, and given that she knew she was pretty noisy when she pleasured herself and that she’d been able to almost hear him shifting his stance next door she had a MASSIVE issue.

Maybe she’d have to take his suggestion….fun in the bath; let the water cover the noise; it might have to be!

She wandered through to the bathroom and began the taps, sighing as the steam wafted up.  
Without having known they were staying over she had nothing other than the contents of her hand bag, so none of her usual toiletries and only a scant amount of touch-up make up and a small, sample size of her perfume.  
So, she did as she’d said she would and poured all of the bottles of body wash, hand wash and shampoo under the taps and watched as a white cloud of foamy bubbles began to appear.

Strike wrinkled his face in disgust at the pathetic cup of tea he was sipping as he forwarded images and recordings they had taken throughout the day.   
He was highly aware that he could hear water running into the bath in Robin’s room next door.  
When he want into his own bathroom he noticed his room had a large shower, as requested by him when they’d booked in, and to his immense delight it was the type that included a small ledge which he could sit on.

In the confines of the tiled room he could hear more definition and sounds from Robin’s bathroom.  
He could hear for example that she was humming in her high pitched voice, and that she’d put something into the small, metal pedal bin.  
He found himself slightly perturbed by the thought that if he could hear what was going on in her room, she’d be able to hear what was going on in his!   
He mentally reminded himself to place some bog roll in the loo first before he pissed deafeningly from a height!

Making his way back through to the bedroom he took a further, unsatisfying gulp of the weak tea and decided to dump it and wait for Robin’s promised decent teabags later.  
As he swirled half of the mug down the sink he heard the taps being turned off in Robin’s room, there was the noise of her hand splashing in the water, presumably she’d gone for the bubble option.

Oh fuck…..he shouldn’t have thought about that.  
His erection started to make itself incredibly obvious in his trousers and he puffed out his cheeks as he caught sight of himself in the large mirror.  
“You pervy fucker!”

Robin smiled at the sight of the foamy bubbles and rapidly filled up bathtub – hers always took so long to fill up, and the boiler usually ran out with it only halfway to a decent soak.  
She was dimly aware that she could hear movement from Cormoran’s room on the other side of the partition wall.  
There was the sound of glugging down the sink, and some water being run from the tap…and was that his muffled voice?

She shook her head to remove the image of his deliciously swarthy features from her head.   
How was it possible for someone who was not traditionally handsome in the ‘Hollywood’ way to be so ridiculously sexy?

She was musing on this as she removed her clothes.   
Shaking each item out she hung her peach blouse to air it through as she knew she would have to wear the same items for the evening and the following day.   
After slipping off her black trousers she considered her knicker situation…..if she washed them through now they wouldn’t be dry for wearing to get some food, but they would be fine for the following day, especially if she hung them over the towel warmer rail!  
She whisked off her bra and wrapped a towel around herself – she’d air her bra through and it would do.  
“Fuck it!” she whispered aloud.   
Working on the assumption that she’d rather have knickers smelling vaguely of assorted bath product than unscented hand soap – which was all she had left – she dunked them into the foamy water and gave them a quick scrub between her hands before rinsing them under the cold tap of the sink.  
She hummed lightly before arranging them on the towel rail and tossing aside the towel in order to lower herself blissfully into the deep, hot water of the tub.

Strike removed his jacket and took the crumpled tie from his pocket before unfastening his shirt buttons and hanging the creased item on one of the weird, ‘headless’ hangers favoured of hotel chains.  
He notched it over the hook on the back of the bathroom door and paused, growling fractionally as he heard the clear sound of Robin easing herself into her bath – there was a fractionally ‘haaa’ and a hum as presumably the heat from the water was hotter than expected.   
A second ‘plish’ sounded and he realised he had closed his eyes, imagining her curling her naked body down into the foamy bubbles.  
“Oh, stop it you filthy scum!” he whispered, limping back through to his bed in order to tackle his trousers and prosthesis before dousing himself thoroughly under a cold shower!

He realised that he wasn’t able to get safely to the shower without his leg attached, and so reattached it after removing the rest of his clothes and shaking out his wrinkled boxer shorts and admonishing his semi hard cock with a withering glare,  
“Stop thinking about her!”

It always felt odd to be naked wearing his additional limb, but needs must….he needed to either wash away his own dirty thoughts, or blot out the sound of feminine splashing next door.  
So, he sat on the ledge in order to remove his leg, propping it up within reach but covered by the towel he would reach for upon finishing washing.  
Levering himself up he was slightly distracted by a sharp, “OOOoooo” sound from the other side of the wall, and lengthy “Hmmmmmmm” of apparent pleasure.

“Oh Christ!”

He hopped over and set the rainfall shower head to an icy cold setting in order to blast away his wayward thoughts and also drown out the sounds of naked Robin….naked, soapy Robin….naked, wet, hot, pouting Robin.

FUUUUCK….cold water alone was not working!

Beneath the hot, foamy water Robin was sliding her hands along her newly waxed legs, lifting her pointed toe from the water in that way they always showed women doing in bubble bath commercials.  
She sniggered and made a small intake of breath as her bottom slipped and her shoulders submerged further under the water.  
“Hmmmmmmmm,” she sighed, enjoying the feel of her hands on her calf….her hands sliding against her skin whilst…..was that the shower in Strike’s room?

Oh Christ….that meant he was just the other side of the wall….naked……rubbing his large, swarthy hands across his chest and stomach, which in her imagination was significantly more well demarcated that was likely in reality, but fuck it…this was HER daydream!

It felt highly inappropriate to be thinking about her work colleague in such amorous and vivid terms being in such close proximity, but it wasn’t as though it was the first time!  
She’d been building up quite a repertoire of scenarios in her erotic imagination involving him.   
That dark grey work shirt had started it off….the one that seemed to have buttons spaced further apart from his others, the one that left an almost obscene amount of chest hair on display when he left the top two unfastened as was his default shirt setting.

Then there had been the now legendary occasion that he’d splashed some of her wine across her chest as he placed it down in the Tottenham, and how he’d instantly brushed his fingers against the damp mark, inadvertently (or maybe not in her fantasy!) rubbing across her nipple several times and making it harden instantly within her bra.  
“Oh God!” she hissed and bit her lip as she allowed her hand to slide down to nestle between her legs.

The cold water was not dulling Strike’s ardour in the slightest.   
His mind kept wandering to the many occasions he’d been forced to bite his lip, clench his fists and resist dragging his honey haired partner across his desk and kissing the shit out of her tempting, pouty lips.  
One particular occasion had been upon her arriving in the office, slightly breathless, a shimmer of sweat across her upper lip, her hair tousled and framing her blue-grey eyes after she’d removed the woollen bobble hat that, to his shame, he had caressed and fondled frequently when it was left on the rack.

Another image seared onto his brain was when a particularly obnoxious client had assumed she was his secretary, and rather than cause a scene she’d gone along with the charade.   
Her breathy request of “Anything else you need me for, Sir?” had since made a regular appearance in his needy, midnight self inflicted, manual encounters.

And now the thoughts wouldn’t seem to stop invading his mind. 

She was just a small layer of plasterboard apart from him……he could probably smash his fist through the wall to get to her…..fuck, he could probably crash his way through with his cock it was so fucking solid!

He switched the temperature to hot and sluiced away the sweat and some of the frustrations of the day with the generic, miniscule bottle of body wash, carefully holding onto the hand rail and shower head to maintain balance in the unfamiliarly larger than usual shower.   
Switching off the water eventually he turned and lowered himself onto the ledge, wincing slightly at the cold puddle of water that had come to rest on it.   
He was still nursing a semi, which he regarded ruefully as he reached for the towel in order to scrub at his dripping hair.  
He made a small growl as he stretched out, his shoulder popping satisfactorily and froze as he heard a similar noise from the adjoining room, together with a somewhat haphazard splashing noise.

Robin had allowed herself to get slightly lost in the thoughts of the swarthy, darkly dilated eyes of Cormoran asking, “Do you need me to scrub that for you Ellacott?” and consequently had parted her thighs and hitched up one of her legs in order to stroke against her most intimate parts.  
The fact that the water was providing a delicious hot sensation as she delved down and spread her own silky lubrication along her overstimulated lips was not lost on her.  
Allowing her head to rest back against the side of the tub meant that she could cup and caress her breast beneath the foamy water, glorying in lifting and exposing the now stiffened peak to the cold air above the water level as she stroked herself to heaven.  
The hand between her legs was building up a faster, slightly irregular rhythm, which she enjoyed more than a steady, almost metronome -like sensation against herself.  
She had begun to dip her fingers inside herself, enjoying how wet she had become, the image of Cormoran’s green-eyes infront of her closed lids helping and certainly spurring on her writhing hand and squirming hips as she moved into each stroking intrusion.  
Her mouth had fallen open and she was now groaning as she dragged the glorious, almost unbearably tensed and yet so relaxed feeling from herself.  
Her hand was now splashing frantically as she sought the perfect tempo, the hand at her breast had dipped down to part her lips further and tease against her clit, rubbing and flicking the small bud as she ground her hips at a needy, heady pace.

Strike passed the towel across his hair, almost trance-like as he tried hard to stop his body making any sounds….doing that weird thing of freezing and cricking his neck oddly, as if this would somehow give him superhuman hearing.  
The realisation of exactly what she was engaging in next door hit his cock fractionally before his brain and he found his hand automatically pressing against his instantly enflamed erection.  
“You sexy little…….” He stopped himself from adding bitch, or cunt to the end of his exclamation…..Robin was neither in his eyes, but the fact remained that she was clearly wanking herself into oblivion based on the speed of those splashes!

Her needy whimpers began to sound out, and he chastised himself about his own thoughts and needs before growling and gripping his still damp cock in his large right hand, stroking down purposefully and revealing his swollen head.  
His thumb swept across the leaking slit and he rubbed some of his own pre-cum down his length as he splayed his other hand across his lower belly, anchoring his cock perfectly in order to start building up a relentless rhythm.

He enjoyed masturbating; he always had, and he was good at it – whether inflicted upon himself or his sexual partner. He had always taken care and attention in satisfying whoever he was with and took the same detailed and thorough approach to his own needs.  
His head fell back a little, resting against the tiles and he pressed his foot against the slippery floor in order to buck his hips up into his own grip.  
The noises from Robin; that persistent splashing noise combined with her high pitched and frankly fucking perfect moans; was sending him into realms of ecstasy and he could feel that his lower spine was starting to throb as his pleasure built.  
His breath was now mirroring his rapidly pumping fist and he hadn’t realised that his own groans of delight had become so loud and uncontrolled.

As Robin slid a second finger inside her core and began to stroke more firmly against the small, perfect spot within herself she dragged her head forwards and became aware of the fact that the shower deluge nextdoor appeared to have ceased, and instead she could hear a deep, resonant snarl along with a masculine panting.  
With a further, barely stifled shout of delight she realised that Cormoran was engaging in exactly, (well not EXACTLY!) what she was doing and the added dump of arousal and pheromones hit her hard in both the stomach and her cunt.  
Pursing her lips into a tight ‘oooooo’ shape she moved her fingers and hips, trying to match the rhythm of Cormoran’s guttural gasps next door.  
“Oh…..fuck!” she could feel herself teetering on the verge of breathless, soundless explosion and almost didn’t want to succumb.  
She wanted to listen to Cormoran as he came….as she came…..  
“Oh fuuuuck, Cormoraaaan!”

Focussing on his own pleasure Strike had almost blocked out what he guessed was taking place next door….until he heard a very clear utterance of “Oh fuck!” in Robin’s sexy as hell Yorkshire lilt.

Jesus!  
Was someone up above granting all his sexual fantasies in one fell swoop?  
He must remember to light a candle the next time he passed a church!

Allowing the aural arousal to further stimulate his closed eyed imagination….he was picturing Robin writhing in a white roll-top bathtub, the bubbles almost completely disappeared as she, in his imagination, grasped at her bullet hard nipple and writhed her hips against her rapidly moving fingers between her legs.  
The combination of the mental image and the actual noises of delight emanating from behind the wall had his cock swelling fractionally more in his grasp.  
He knew he was close, and much as he longed to drag his hot release from himself he almost didn’t want to, knowing that this almost perfect moment would be broken.  
He could hold it here……eek it out a little longer…….stop himself giving in……he could…..oh fuck what did she just say?!?

“FUCK….Robin……fucking hell!”  
He splashed ribbons of jiz across his hand, belly and thighs before slumping back against the cold tiles, speechless and momentarily thoughtless as his lungs tried to gulp oxygen back to fuel the blood to his racing heart.

Robin heard the sound of her name uttered through what sounded like gritted teeth on the other side of the wall and found herself unable to hold back her orgasm any further.  
With the sound of Cormoran’s laboured breathing and mildly stifled shouts of release burning in her ears she let her neck melt and her eyes rolled back beneath her fluttering lids as she came; stroking and squeezing all manner of ecstatic sensations and sounds from herself before finally stilling and gasping, running a wet hand across her face to remove several tendrils of her hair which had become damply splayed across her face.

“Oh…..God……shit!” she whimpered, shifting in the slightly cool water and wondering whether she dared risk trying to stand up yet.

Shit!

She’d just……done that………and Cormoran had too!

And they’d both shouted each others’ name……at the most important moment!

Shit!

Oh Fuck!

Strike was grasping a splayed palm across his still damp and disastrous curls.

He’d just…….yeah……tugged himself blind…..and Robin had done the female equivalent….right nextdoor!

And she’d clearly been thinking about him as much as he’d been picturing her!

What the actual fuck?!

Robin slowly got her breath and vision back to a state were she could consider moving and removed the bath plug whilst wrapping the same white towel around herself.  
Her legs still felt slightly wobbly.  
Of course they did…that was the best orgasm she’d had in ages.

Jesus, if he could do that to her through plasterboard what the hell might it be like in the flesh?

In the flesh…..oh god, she had to face him….in the flesh….without any of that ever, EVER being mentioned again!

She was shaken out of her turmoil by her phone.  
Cormoran!  
Fuck!

She knew that he would be able to hear the ringtone in his room….she had to answer it.

“Hi,” her voice came out in a soft, awkwardly high little sound, which made him snort a chuckle before he replied.

“Are we talking about this then?” he asked.

“About what?......I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.

His laugh this time was more of a wolfish snarl, “Oh yes you fucking do, Ellacott! The question is, are we never speaking about it again, or…..”

“Orrrrr…….what?” she asked, perfectly happy for him to dominate the conversation and give her the options.

Shit, why the fuck did she want him making all the decisions all of a sudden?

“Well…..another perfectly acceptable to me option would be….to….errr……sack off dinner and spend the night fucking each other senseless,” he stated, clearing his throat in one of the most sexually alluring manners Robin thought might be possible.  
Robin paused on the phone, mainly because she didn’t quite trust her voice not to give away her complete, squeeful joy.

Had he got this completely wrong? 

He exhaled loudly into his phone, had he fucked things up meteorically by saying that….given that calling her name whilst wanking in the shower might just about only be catastrophic on the fuck up scale?

He waited.

“Robin……just say something…..please,” he pleaded softly.

He was dimly aware of a tentative double knock on his door.  
He’d dried off and reattached his leg before calling her; giving himself a few moments of un-cock-based consideration before pressing on her number….the most used contact in his address book by far.  
With the phone still adjacent to his ear he could hear Robin’s breath, heavy with unspoken emotion.

“Open the door,” he heard her whisper in a voice so uncertain and clenched in terror that he crossed the space in fewer strides that was sensible.

He yanked the door open wide onto an image that even in his wildest fantasies would never have come close to this blissful reality.

Robin had a hotel towel wrapped and tucked around under her arms, revealing delectable mounds of creamy, soft flesh above the edge.   
Her damp, amber hair was dragged back from her clean, lightly freckled skin and her lips looked like they had only ever been intended to be kissed by him.  
She was toying nervously with her phone as she ended the call and shifted her feet, dragging Strike’s attention down her body and suddenly very much aware that he was only dressed in one of the same white hotel towels which had been hastily tucked around his waist.

Somehow he managed to make his mouth form words,  
“Do you want to talk about it then?” he asked, piercing her eyes with an almost painfully sensual gaze, his lips curling slightly as she shook her head.

“No,” she stated, purposefully stepping across the threshold into his room and allowing her towel to drop to the floor as she moved with powerfully alluring confidence towards his slightly rumpled bed, glancing over her shoulder and finding his expression of delight.  
"I'll have to occupy my mouth in other ways then," he snarled and flicked the lock on the door before making his way across to the bed, Robin and more physical activity than his body had experienced in one night for a very, very long time.


End file.
